


Damian

by Azazel



Series: Cookie Jar [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Aftercare, Anal Sex, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Crossdressing, Exhibitionism, Hands Free Orgasm, Light BDSM, M/M, Masturbation, Safer Sex, Safewords, Sexual Roleplay, Shifting gender pronouns, Tucking, Undercover as a woman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:33:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azazel/pseuds/Azazel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Damian stumbles into a scene he did not expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Damian

Damian greets Bruce’s secretary with a stiff nod then disregards her warning that Bruce is busy, shoving his Father’s office door open. He stops cold just beyond the threshold. He cannot see his Father beyond the dark hair and silk blouse and folded knees of the woman sitting on his desk. But he can hear the sounds they are making. Heavy breathing, soft moans, _slurping_. The secretary coughs and scrambles to the elevator. As the numbers climb up to the executive floor Damian clears his throat. 

They woman stiffens and slowly, so very slowly, Bruce’s face appears over her right shoulder. He wipes at his mouth with the back of his hand then glances past Damian and quirks an eyebrow at the open door.

“In or out, Son.” The faceless woman sort of shrinks, pulling her shoulders in toward her chest and drawing her knees together as much as she can, which is not much considering Bruce has not moved from his position between them. Damian takes a moment to blink at his Father in disbelief before giving the heavy door a push. Crossing his arms over his chest he lifts his chin slightly and arches his eyebrow right back saying, “In.”

Bruce nods to one of the plush chairs across from his desk then bends to take his own seat again. The woman is still curled in on herself. Her skirt is pushed up leaving her bare from the waist down. As Damian moves to his chair he notices her knuckles are white with strain where she is gripping the edge of the desk. He takes a moment to savor the childish satisfaction at her discomfort. His Father grasps her right knee and pushes it until her legs fall open again. Damian scoffs as he sprawls in his chair across from them, lacing his fingers together over his stomach and letting his own knees spread wide. He makes a show of looking around the office like the scene in front of him is of no concern and is in fact tantamount to watching paint dry.

“Bruce,” the hiss is low, obviously not meant to carry. Damian’s head snaps up at the voice, his eyes wide. He knows that voice. It used to haunt his every thought and action as Robin. Questioning his motives and values. Questioning his worth. But Father told him Drake would be on an extended undercover assignment. There is no way he would be here right now. And certainly not dressed as a woman with his ass hanging off the edge of his Bruce’s desk. 

Damian jumps a little in his seat when his Father’s voice comes from somewhere between the legs of his companion, “Pardon my bad manners. Damian, this is Tabitha Jorgenson. She’s interning here for the summer. Tabitha, this is my son, Damian.”

Drake cringes hard, the tips of his mid-night black A-line bob wig brushing his right shoulder as he turns to look at Damian out of the corner of his eye. His makeup is impeccable. Cheeks, chin, and nose contoured just so and eyeliner winged like it was done by a professional. The smudge of eyeshadow and barely noticeable lash inserts bring out the startling blue of his eyes. There are still traces of lipstick on his mouth. Damian can’t take his eyes off of those smears when “Tabitha” says, “It’s nice to meet you, Damian. Your Father has told me so much about you.” Her voice is soft, with a slight New York lilt. 

Damian shakes his head once and scowls before responding with, “Funny, he never mentioned having an intern. Nor that he is fucking said intern. In his office, no less.” Drake drops his gaze.

“Hm. We haven’t quite gotten that far yet,” there is a distinct undertone of laughter in his Father’s quip. “So far I’ve only had time to use my mouth and hands on this beautiful body. But we were just about to change that when you came in. What do you say, Tabi, are you ready for me?” 

Tabitha looks down, presumably at Bruce, then back at Damian. She bites her lip, further disturbing what’s left of her lipstick, then nods once. Her voice is a bit breathy, almost like a sigh, when she says, “Yes, Mr. Wayne.”

Bruce stands again, stroking the smooth skin (that Damian knows for a fact is actually heavily scarred) of her thighs, gently using his grip to help her lower her high heels to the carpet. The thin spikes sink into thick pile when she stands completely. She tilts her face into Bruce’s palm when he cups her jaw. The kiss they share is tender but thorough, a willing surrender. Damian still cannot really see his Father around Tabitha but he looks to be completely clothed, only his suitcoat missing. Tabitha’s thighs and buttocks look like they were sculpted from marble. Solid lines and soft curves. Damian shakes his head at himself this time thinking this is not just some intern his Father chose to have relations with. This is not “Tabitha”, this is _Timothy_. But it cannot be Timothy. Damian has never once seen Timothy this… _pliable_. 

Damian watches as his Father caresses the person he can only identify as Tabitha, his deep voice commanding attention, “Turn around, hands on the desk.” She turns without a word and places both hands on the polished surface, one on each side of an antiquated desk blotter. Her nails are manicured and painted a deep, arterial blood red. The color of Tabitha’s nails can only distract him for a moment before his eyes move on to the crisscross of medical tape between her legs where the bulge of testicles should be. Instead the area is flattened by a gauze pad taped in place tightly just below Tabitha’s erection. His Father nuzzles behind her ear murmuring in a low rumble, “Let me get that for you, dear.”

The tape leaves angry red lines across Tabitha’s skin. She whines, low and throaty, when the last piece peels away. The entire area is completely hairless. Not the kind of smooth that comes with shaving, though. Most likely she waxed, or perhaps got laser hair removal. But all thoughts of how soft the skin must be are drown out by the loose, empty look of her scrotum. His Father wraps his left hand around her dick and squeezes while his right hand reaches down to stroke and stretch the skin of her sac. Tabitha is breathing hard through her nose, lips caught between her teeth. Her left knee buckles slightly when first one testicle, then the other, drops into place. Bruce catches her around the waist with both arms to steady her. 

“Better?”

Her head falls forward, hiding her face behind the wig as she nods, moaning, “Yes, Sir, thank you.”

Damian catches his Father smiling down at her while he hums under his breath. Bruce reaches over to open a drawer, taking out a condom and a small bottle of lubricant. When he lets go of her completely Tabitha glances over her shoulder to watch him unbutton and pull the zipper down on his slacks. Damian shifts in his seat, moving his hands to the armrests and gripping tightly. His Father’s erection is clearly outlined beneath his boxer shorts, the fabric clinging to the tip when he pushes them down. Tabitha curls her spine just a tiny bit more and Damian thinks she is presenting herself to his Father. His eyes are drawn back to her mouth when she says, “Do we have to use that, Sir?”

Bruce rubs his thick shaft between her ass cheeks, clucking his tongue, “I’m sorry but we do. I don’t want to ruin your skirt. Even though I would much rather feel just you.” Damian can tell he is blushing by the way his skin burns. He has to bite down on his tongue to keep from making a sound. His chest feels hot, too, but he can’t control his breathing the way he usually does. His eyes track his Father’s hands as they tear open the little square package and roll the latex over his skin. In some strange twist he thinks the second skin serves to accentuate the girth of his Father’s dick. Damian’s stomach twists at this thought and he forces himself to look away. It is not until he sees Tabitha staring at him that he realizes watching his Father spread lubricant over the condom may have been the safer view. Her eyes roll up and her mouth falls open when Bruce curls his hands around her waist to pull her back until their hips are flush. His Father barely pauses for a few seconds before he pushes her against the desk and starts to thrust, jarring her every time their bodies come together. 

The noises she makes are breathless and choked. Her hair sways back and forth over her shoulders when she tilts her head back slightly. Damian notices that her breasts do not bounce like the women in the pornographic movies he has seen. His brow draws down, the bridge of his nose wrinkling, when his mind clicks over and realizes Tabitha’s breasts do not bounce because they are not real. He does his best to ignore the way his body is responding to what he sees but he can feel the sweat pasting his shirt to his skin and his skinny jeans are significantly tighter over his crotch than they were ten minutes ago. 

Tabitha is watching him again. Her eyes are dark and shiny, lids sitting low enough that they scarcely seem open. The meaty slap of skin on skin is steady while Bruce pistons his cock in and out of her body. The desk’s edge is biting into the flesh of her thighs. There is a growing stain on the calendar where she is leaking. Seemingly without any input from his brain Damian’s left hand slides from the armrest to rub the inseam of his jeans. A particularly harsh thrust forces a gasping cry out of Tabitha. Damian is so focused on her he almost forgets his Father is in the room until he hears him say, “Do you think he wants you, Tabi?”

Her eyes flinch away from Damian’s and down to the desk. Her voice is so close to Timothy’s it is hard to tell them apart when she responds with a low, “No. Never.”

“Don’t be so sure. Just look at him,” his Father nods toward him. “He’s leaning forward in his seat practically touching himself while he watches you. Don’t tell me you can’t see how hard he is.”

Tabitha shakes her head, “He hates me, Sir.”

This time it is Damian’s mouth that acts without thought, saying, “I do not hate you.” His teeth click when he snaps his jaw closed. 

“There, see? No hate,” Bruce punctuates each word with a quick thrust. “In fact, I’m betting he would love to be in my place. Would you like that, dear? Do you want to fuck my son?”

Tabitha peeks through her bangs, groaning, “Yes, Sir.” Damian has to reach down and squeeze himself.

His Father smirks and yanks her back. His voice dips into command mode again as he says, “Perhaps one day you will, but not today. Today it’s my cock in you.”

“Yes, Sir,” she pants.

“And that’s what you really want isn’t it?” His Father’s fingers dig into her waist as he jerks her back against every thrust.

“Yes, Sir,” her voice is high, almost frantic. Damian shifts and wriggles until his erection is nestled inside his right pant leg, sandwiched between his thigh and denim. He absently grinds the heel of his hand over his length, stopping occasionally to run his fingertips over the head. The sensation is dulled by the material of his pants. His foreskin feels unbearably tight. Tabitha’s hands have not budged from their place on the desk. Her cock is bobbing between her legs and Damian’s thoughts get derailed for a moment wondering if she tastes or smells different because she is circumcised. 

His Father nearly growls, “Good, girl. Now cum for me.”

As if the demand was aimed at both of them Damian’s cock twitches in time with Tabitha’s, pumping semen out. He moans when a splash of Tabitha’s cum lands near his left foot. His Father bares his teeth as he finishes. Damian tries to swallow but his throat is dry. The wet patch in his pants is already cooling. His Father reaches down, grasps the base of his dick, and slowly pulls out. Tabitha whimpers, squirming when the reservoir of the condom finally slips out. Looking at the amount of semen filling the latex Damian can appreciate why his Father chose to use it. Surely if it had not been contained it would have dripped down Tabitha’s thighs for some time and her skirt _would_ have been ruined. Much like his jeans. Damian groans and thumps his head back against the leather of the chair. 

His Father glances at him and chuckles wickedly then leans down to kiss Tabitha’s shoulder and whisper to her, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” He keeps one fist wrapped around his limp cock, holding the condom in place, and uses the other hand to hold his pants up as he walks to the private bathroom. Tabitha does not move except to bow her head. Damian takes the opportunity to observe her without his Father’s influence. Despite the feminine clothes and makeup he can see Timothy creeping into Tabitha’s skin. A subtle shift in stance makes it obvious he is aware that Damian is watching him and the scrutiny is making him uncomfortable. 

Before the situation can become even more awkward Bruce returns with his pants buttoned and zipped, his shirt tucked in neatly, carrying an armful of supplies. He drops everything on the desk except for a washcloth he has balled up in his fist. This he opens up and uses to gently, meticulously clean between Drake’s legs. His cheeks flush under the heavy makeup when Bruce reaches around to dab at his cock. Damian looks away, the routine – no _ritual_ is too personal and he suddenly feels like he does not belong anywhere near it. His Father sets the washcloth aside and picks up a small towel to pat Drake’s skin dry. When that is finished he drops the towel on top of the washcloth and wraps his hands around Drake’s hips. His voice is low but soft when he speaks, “Up on the desk and lay back, please.”

Drake turns silently and perches on the desk. Bruce reaches down, hooking his hands under Drake’s knees and bringing them up until those spiky high heels are on the armrests of his chair. He massages the muscles of Drake’s calves for a minute before moving on. He carefully shifts Drake’s cock until it points upward toward his bellybutton then meets wide blue eyes and says, “Deep breath and relax.” Drake’s chest rises and Damian cannot help but stare as his Father coaxes both testicles back into Drake’s body. He gasps and arches off the desk a little bit. Damian’s eyes follow his Father’s hands as they pick up a new gauze pad and fold it in half diagonally. Then he puts the gauze on top of Drake’s deflated scrotum. Bruce tears four strips of medical tape off of the roll, sticking three of them to the edge of his desk and using the last to tack down one side of the gauze. The other edges receive the same treatment and the last piece goes down the middle. His Father bends and kisses each hipbone then reached for the last thing he brought from the bathroom. A pair of beige panties that look at least two sizes too small for Drake. He slips them over the heels then folds Drake’s legs and presses them together so he can slide the silky material up the rest of the way. 

Drake stands and pulls his panties into place, doing an odd kind of half-squat to tuck his dick between his legs. The skirt is next. It looks a bit wrinkled but at least it is not covered in semen. He has not looked at either of them since Bruce left the room. Again, Damian feels like he should leave. His Father crowds into Drake’s personal space, curving his palms around Drake’s throat and using his thumbs to tilt Drake’s face up. 

“Kosher?” 

Drake blinks and just like that Tabitha is back. Her mouth twists into a smirk, “Hebrew National.*" She turns and struts to the door. Just before she pulls it open she throws over her shoulder, “It was lovely to meet you, Damian.” Then she is gone, leaving Father and Son alone.

Bruce takes a deep breath, reaches up to rub the back of his neck and says, “Damian-“

“It’s not just him is it. You are having, or have had, sex with Grayson and Todd as well I assume.” Damian’s mouth is pulled down into a deep frown. 

His Father just sighs, “I have and am, yes.”

Damian stands and nods sharply, “Very well. I am not casting any kind of judgement. I just do not want to be surprised again.”

Bruce moves around the desk and reaches toward his Son. Damian turns on his heel and walks to the door so quickly he nearly runs, mumbling, “Have a good afternoon, Father. I will see you later for dinner at home.” Bruce’s hand falls back to his side and he shakes his head thinking he may have made a mistake with two of his children today.

**Author's Note:**

> * "kosher" and "Hebrew National" are safewords and are essentially like checking in or asking "are we good? Can we continue?" when the scene is more public than private. If Tim had responded with "Ballpark" that would be the cue to stop the scene. And, while he did eventually ask, in my opinion Bruce _should_ have asked a lot sooner if it was okay for Damian to participate in the scene, however indirectly. That Is, after all, part of being consensual.


End file.
